


The Pitfalls of Desire

by Tokyo_the_Glaive



Series: Tumblr Shorts [16]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokyo_the_Glaive/pseuds/Tokyo_the_Glaive
Summary: There’s a curious man with a scar across his nose helping rebuild Renais. I believe he’s the one you’ve been looking for.
Innes forced himself to ignore that first message. Informants got things wrong all the time, and a mere belief wasn’t anything to go on. His network was vast and ever-active, never mind their current state of peace. Information did not cease to flow with the end of war; it flew from the lips of the unwary and the reckless with abandon, and Innes made sure not to miss a moment. If he’d told his spies to be on the lookout for someone in particular….Well. No one else needed to know of it.So, when the missive came in—green hair, scar across his nose, handy with a blade—Innes squashed the hope that immediately built in his chest. It could be a mistake. A sense of pride—and a memory of previous attempts—kept him from sending a messenger. It was probably a fluke. The man Innes had known—the one he’d…he’d…—That man was gone.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurumite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurumite/gifts).



> Prompt for aurumite who wanted to see Innes/Gerik post canon. This sort of got away from me...

_There’s a curious man with a scar across his nose helping rebuild Renais. I believe he’s the one you’ve been looking for._

Innes forced himself to ignore that first message. Informants got things wrong all the time, and a mere belief wasn’t anything to go on. His network was vast and ever-active, never mind their current state of peace. Information did not cease to flow with the end of war; it flew from the lips of the unwary and the reckless with abandon, and Innes made sure not to miss a moment. If he’d told his spies to be on the lookout for someone in particular….Well. No one else needed to know of it.

So, when the missive came in— _green hair, scar across his nose, handy with a blade_ —Innes squashed the hope that immediately built in his chest. It could be a mistake. A sense of pride—and a memory of previous attempts—kept him from sending a messenger. It was probably a fluke. The man Innes had known—the one he’d…he’d…—That man was gone.

Then came the second report. _Swordsman with green hair, scar across his nose_. Innes ignored that one, too. He crumpled the parchment tightly in his fist, the dry ink still wet enough to stain his fingers, and flung it into a lit brazier. He refused to so much as look at it a moment longer, for it offered him naught but pain. No doubt his spies sought fit to curry favor with him by offering tidbits; he’d been especially harsh of late. They would learn.

Still, as the reports piled up—eight in total of the span of far fewer weeks—there was no mistaking or denying it any longer. What was more, Innes had handled all business that might have granted him a distraction. There was nothing to do if not wait, which had never been Innes’ strong suit when it came to matters of business. With a hasty note to Father, Innes packed lightly and took a pegasus to Renais.

* * *

Innes landed outside of the village named in the last report—a place called Niwla. There was nothing at all to recommend it save the brand-new buildings. They were crafted of good wood—local, Innes supposed. The beams weren’t green but dry and hard, sturdy stuff that would withstand many, many storms. A few people milled about a square, waiting their turn to draw up water from a well. Innes approached a woman standing beside an enormous bucket and bouncing a baby on her hip.

“A mercenary, you say?” the woman asked Innes. She spoke so quickly and with such a rural drawl that he could hardly understand a word. Innes had enough trouble with Eirika and Ephraim’s _Renai_ , to say nothing of their _Frelias_ , but this was something else entirely.

“Yes,” Innes said. “Tall, with green hair, and a—” he made a line across his nose, “—nose.”

The woman tilted her head. She mumbled something to herself, likely trying to make sense of Innes’ broken _Renai_ , when suddenly her expression brightened.

“Oh!” she said. “Ah, Gerik!” Innes’ face must have said it all because she said, “Everyone wants him nowadays. He does such good work! You’ll be lucky to have him. Where are you from, again?”

(At least, that’s what she _actually_ said. Innes missed most of the middle part and understood at most Gerik’s name and that last question, which embarrassed him terribly.)

“Frelia,” he answered. “Where has Gerik gone?”

The woman frowned. “I don’t know,” she said finally. She nodded once at something over Innes’ shoulder—a man, Innes saw out of the corner of his eye, no doubt her husband, concerned that she was speaking to someone he did not know. The woman suggested, “West, maybe? He comes and goes, they say.”

Innes understood most of that one and asked, “They?”

The woman shrugged. “Merchants,” she said. (Innes mistakenly thought this a name.) “Visitors. He’s done a lot of good.”

Innes thanked the woman. She giggled, and Innes wondered if he’d said something strange. She didn’t give him a chance to find out; she approached the well with that big bucket of hers and began to draw one-handed. Innes glanced around; her husband had left her to draw up the water herself.

That wouldn’t do. Innes swatted her out of the way and pulled up the heavy bucket for her. His arms strained—the thing was burdensome, and he marveled that she’d gotten it up any distance at all—but he managed to haul it up and out of the well.

The woman smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said, “but I can carry it.”

Innes shook his head. He didn’t know how to say “I insist”, but he figured that gesturing her to move and hoisting the bucket with both hand said it all.

“Put it down,” the woman said. Innes shook his head, and she repeated, firmly, “ _Put it down._ ”

Well, if she wanted to be that way. Innes scowled and set the bucket down. He was about to storm off—if she didn’t want him to return the favor, that was her business—when he found the baby shoved into his arms.

In shock, Innes took it. It blinked at him, oddly at ease with the situation, and Innes held it at arm’s length. He looked beseechingly at the woman, who lifted the bucket as if it were nothing and balanced it on her head. Innes stared openly as she began to walk, the bucket not so much as tipping as she moved.

“This way,” she said. Innes followed, tucking the baby in his arms the way he’d seen women at court do. It grasped onto the strap of his chest guard and gurgled as he strode after the woman. She moved quickly for carrying such a heavy load, and she directed them toward a house not far from the well. She took the bucket inside and returned without it. She opened her arms, and Innes made to return the baby. It still had a grip on his chest guard, and he had to peel its fingers away before it returned to its mother.

“There,” she said. Innes felt foolish; he’d intended to help her carry the water, not watch and do the easier task while she lugged such a heavy load. “Good luck finding Gerik,” she said.

“Thank you,” Innes responded. “Good luck to you, too.”

The woman smiled and cooed at the baby, who cooed back. It stared at Innes as she retreated inside. Innes could have sworn he saw it wave, not that it was old enough to understand such a gesture.

Innes turned away. He’d gotten the information he wanted; that was what mattered. He brushed himself off and headed toward the outskirts, where he’d left his pegasus. He would fly west, hopping between towns until he headed Gerik off.

Or, that was his plan. He stopped short in the clearing in which he’d landed. The pegasus was gone.

Innes clicked and whistled, waiting. Nothing. The trees were tall; he’d have to climb one to see if he could spot the creature somewhere close by—it _had_ to be close by. No Frelian pegasus would permit an unknown rider to take it up, and they were too well-trained to fly off by themselves. Someone had to have led it away, bribing it with apples or feed, perhaps.

“You know, you leave one of these beauties by itself, you’re just asking to be robbed.”

Innes blinked and spun on his heel. There, emerging from the wood, was his pegasus, and leading it…

“I remembered you as more careful than this, Prince,” Gerik said.

Innes forewent greeting to say, “Pegasi startle easily. I’ve never seen Coeus answer to any but myself.”

“And here I thought this was your sister’s,” Gerik said, stroking Coeus’ mane.

“Tana’s not here,” Innes said.

“No. You came here alone.”

“Visiting Renais is hardly cause for guards,” Innes said. “Eirika and Ephraim have done well. I was merely stopping by.”

Gerik laughed. “Ah, Prince. You crack me up.” Innes scowled at him. “I caught one of your spies and sent him back to you with the name of this village. Told him there’d be hell to pay if he said a word that I’d spoken to him. You’re not here for the Restoration Twins; you came for me.”

Innes glared at Gerik, furious. “Which one?” he demanded. “Such a lack of discipline requires addressing. It represents a hole in Frelia’s defenses and needs to be rectified immediately.” He was already running through the list of names in his mind—who was most likely to concede to such a demand? Did they not trust that Frelia would provide for them, never mind the threats of others? Did they not know what they’d signed on for?

“So they were your spies,” Gerik said.

“Of course,” Innes said. “They told you so much, didn’t they?”

Gerik shook his head. “I was jerking your chain. I didn’t actually catch one—just spotted a couple people over the past few months roaming the countryside with accents just shy of local. I’ll grant, your people are good, but I’ve been everywhere,” Gerik said, thumbing his nose. “I know who belongs and who doesn’t.”

“You wanted me to admit that I sent out spies,” Innes said. “You lied.”

Gerik shrugged. “Good to know you care about me, I guess.”

“Maybe they weren’t looking for you.”

“Doubt it. You came here, didn’t you? The last place I saw one of your informants. Had a good long conversation with him about the weather here. Really, he’d done his research. Deserves a raise, or whatever you pay your people.” Innes gripped his hands into fists. “Relax. I didn’t bribe any of your spies, and I doubt they would have accepted if I’d tried. Truth be told, I hoped they were yours. If they weren’t, it would have meant trouble.” Gerik tapped the sword at his side.

“Why did you stay, then?”

“Can’t have people following me,” Gerik said. “Ruins the whole vanishing act. But you went into the village, and a friend of mine spotted you and came back here. Had you been anyone else, you’d have been dead the moment you stepped into this clearing.”

Innes glared at Gerik. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“I should be asking you,” Gerik said. “I figured you were looking for me, so I waited, and now you ask me what I want?”

Innes swallowed. Gerik wasn’t wrong. “You disappeared,” Innes said.

“Yeah,” Gerik replied. He still had a hand on Coeus’ back. The pegasus seemed to relish the attention, and he nuzzled Gerik’s hand for more. An ugly emotion—jealousy, Innes understood—snapped through him, and he marched toward the pair. He took Coeus’ head in his hands and looked into his eyes.

“Why?” Innes asked, not looking away.

“Fame and fortune,” Gerik said. Innes smoothed over Coeus’ hair and adjusted his reins. “Got to be too much.”

“Didn’t think you mercenary types ever had too much of that,” Innes said, aware even as he did that it was a low barb.

Gerik huffed a laugh, low and mirthless. “You really don’t change, do you, Prince? If that’s all you have to say, I’ll be off. Niwla’s not the only town in need of a pair of strong arms.”

“Where’s Tethys?” Innes asked. “I thought she’d be with you.”

“What’s it to you?” Gerik shot back. Innes opened his mouth, then closed it quickly, a flush rising to his cheeks.

“I’ve never seen her away from your side,” Innes said, finally looking at Gerik. He hadn’t moved except to fold his arms—defensive, Innes thought. He had the urge to cross his own arms, too, to make himself smaller. He didn’t.

“Tethys is her own person,” Gerik said firmly. “I told her I was getting out of the business. We split up the last of our profits. Last I heard, she was running a dance school somewhere in Jehanna, near the new Hall.”

Innes nodded, keeping his eyes on Gerik. It seemed important now that he didn’t look away. In a foolish corner of his mind, he feared that Gerik might simply disappear again should Innes so much as blink.

“I looked for you,” Innes said. “After.”

“I know,” Gerik replied. “The guild told me.”

Innes waited, and when Gerik didn’t respond, he asked, “And?”

“I ignored you.”

“Why?”

“Do you have to ask?”

Innes balled his hands into fists once more. Sensing his distress, Coeus snorted and stamped. Gerik clicked his tongue and made a low whistling noise, a series of sounds Innes was all too familiar with. At once, Coeus walked the few scant steps to Gerik’s side and nuzzled his hands once more.

“Where did you learn that?” Innes asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Tana,” Gerik answered. “Before you ask, no, she didn’t show me. You’re not the only one with eyes, Prince.”

Innes drew up to full height. “Stay away from my sister.”

“You think so low of me? We were comrades in war,” Gerik said. “I wasn’t watching _her_ , I watched how she handled her pegasus. They’re lovely creatures. You don’t see any in Jehanna.”

Innes tore his gaze away, hating the sign of weakness even as he exhibited it. “I asked you a question,” he said.

“You’re not my employer. You have no right to demand anything of me. Besides, I asked you one, too.”

“Responding to a question with a question isn’t good conversation,” Innes said.

“And you’re beating around the bush. Out with it.”

Innes snapped, “I asked you why you ignored me, didn’t I? So of course I have to ask. If I’d known the answer, do you think I would have come all of the way out to the middle of nowhere in a country that is not my own to find you after years of absence? Yes, I said it: I don’t know. The admission must positively thrill you. Are you happy now? Have you humiliated me enough, or is there more?”

Gerik had the audacity to looked unfazed. “I have never tried to humiliate you, nor do I ever believe I will,” he said. “Now, you’ve answered mine, so I’ll answer yours: I didn’t want to work for you.”

“Why?” Innes demanded. “And don’t ask me why it matters.”

Gerik’s smile wasn’t really a smile. “That’s the most important question.”

“Just—”

“No,” Gerik said.

Innes shut his eyes. “You make this so difficult,” he murmured.

“You have that backwards, Prince,” Gerik said.

“Do I?” Innes asked. “You’re the one who—”

“Yes, yes,” Gerik said. “I ignored your _summons_. I didn’t want to work for you. Still don’t.” Innes took in a deep breath. “Have you even for a moment considered trying to answer your own question?”

“Excuse me?”

“You keep asking _why_. Have you thought at all about _why_ I might not have answered? _Why_ when you asked, again and again and again, I had the guild send word that I was already hired or unavailable and the like?”

“I have,” Innes said.

“And?”

“And?”

“What did you come up with?” Gerik asked. “Come on, out with it.”

“No,” Innes said.

“And why not?”

“It would harm your pride,” Innes said stiffly.

Gerik shook his head. “None of that. Be honest now; it’s what your best at, brutal honesty. That, and your bow, but now, let’s speak, not fight.”

Innes glared at Gerik—the man he’d come so far to find, the man he’d been searching for, the man he…

“I believed it, at first,” Innes admitted. “But then it happened over and over. I feared you murdered.” Gerik exhaled. “I sent people to Jehanna, just to be sure. By the time they arrived, you’d already made your disappearance. They returned empty-handed, and I determined that someone had covered up your death.” Innes braced himself. “I had them keep searching, just to be sure.”

“In Renais,” Gerik said.

“Everywhere,” Innes answered, miserable. Gerik had nothing to say to that. “Grado, Jehanna, Carcino, Renais—there are even a few roaming the Frelian countryside, though I thought the odds poor that you would have managed to enter the country without my knowledge. They have sketches, and my own description of you. I entrusted finding you to only the best of the best, which is why the implication that one of them might have double-dealt was so upsetting to me.” Innes frowned. “When the first report came, I…”

“Prince?”

“I assumed them to be mistaken,” Innes concluded. “So, too, with the second. But as you were sighted several more times, I had to reexamine my assessment of your disappearance.”

“And?”

“You had covered your tracks well, perhaps assuming that someone like me might come looking,” Innes said. “You had hoped to disappear. I supposed that you might have had some misfortune befall you, something that rendered you incapable of fulfilling your duties as a mercenary. Or…”

“Or?”

“That you simply didn’t want to be found,” Innes said. “You needed to hide from someone.”

Gerik shifted in front of him. “No,” he said.

Innes couldn’t stop himself. “I wanted to see if that person was me,” he said. “If I had—”

“No,” Gerik repeated.

“I had thought we had shared—and then you refused my requests,” Innes said, “you abandoned your work—”

“Contrary to popular belief, the world does not revolve around you, Prince,” Gerik said, cutting him off. He laid one of his hands on Innes’ shoulder. It felt too big, as if it could smother him. Gerik could, Innes understood. They were of a height, but Innes was smaller in every other conceivable way. There would be no contest in a fight.

But Gerik held his hand there. Innes recognized the gesture as meant for reassurance, but it held none for him.

“I didn’t leave because of you,” Gerik said.

“Then why?”

“I already told you.”

“Fame and fortune, yes,” Innes said. “But _why_? You left without a word.” Innes didn’t voice what he so desperately wanted to say: _I thought we’d made plans, I thought I mattered to you as you mattered—matter—to me, I thought there was some future where you and I and peace could coexist—_

Gerik swallowed. “You’ve admitted much today, Prince. I guess I’ve got to offer the same. He adjusted his headband, frowning. “I didn’t think I could see you again. I couldn’t work for you, that was for sure.”

“But—”

“Just let me finish, okay?” Gerik asked. “Then you can ask whatever you want.” Innes closed his mouth and nodded. He would finally learn the truth. No matter how hard, Innes could handle it. Of that, he was sure.

“You said that you’d make me Frelia’s General,” Gerik said. “I would be under you, serving you.” Innes had so much he wanted to say, but he kept his tongue. “I wanted to return with you—but not as a General. You were…” Gerik swallowed. “I got attached to you. It happens, from time to time, or so the guild said. Spend too long with an employer, can’t imagine what it’ll be like when the job’s done and you part ways. Some of that was the nature of the fighting—I don’t think I’ll ever forget fighting those monsters—but part of it’s proximity. We spent too long, too close, and I slipped up.” Gerik shrugged and determinedly looked away from Innes’ face. “I worked with others, sure. But the thought of working for you again—I couldn’t do it. That’s it.”

“I need to know why.”

Gerik took his hand off of Innes’ shoulder. “I just told you.”

“I need to know what you mean by attached,” Innes said plainly.

“Do you need everything spelled out?” Gerik demanded.

“You said I could ask what I wished,” Innes said. “You said you’d never intentionally humiliate me. Before I humiliate myself, explain yourself.” When it became clear Gerik would not answer, Innes added, “Please.”

Gerik arched an eyebrow. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said. “I didn’t think you knew the word.” Innes moved his mouth, angry, but did not speak. “Fine. Have it your way. Not like we’ll see each other again. When I say attachment, I mean I looked at you and I…” Gerik sighed. “Affection. Romance. Whatever. Go ahead, have your laugh and be done with it.”

Innes’ hand shot out to grab Gerik by the wrist. Reflexively, Gerik reversed the hold and had Innes doubled over in seconds. He released him immediately, but Innes stumbled and nearly fell. Coeus whinnied, and Gerik struggled to soothe him.

“That’s— I’m not laughing,” Innes said, struggling to right himself. “Why would I?”

“You’ve as much composure as I remember,” Gerik said. “But spare me your judgment. I’ll be going, if you’re done with your inquisition.”

“Do you think I came all this way to be deterred?” Innes asked.

“You want a General. I want—”

“A lover,” Innes answered. Gerik stopped short. “Am I wrong?”

“Don’t make me answer that, Prince.”

“That’s not my name.”

Gerik took a step back. “It’s your title,” he said.

“It’s not my name. Say my name.”

“No.”

“Gerik.”

“I’m not doing this. You can’t do this.”

Innes did not move from his position. If Gerik wished to retreat, that was his business, but if he chased him now, he doubted the gesture would be received as intended.

“I’ll make this easier on you,” Innes said. “Gerik, in the time that you’ve been gone, I’ve thought of you frequently and ardently, even above my own responsibilities. I asked for you from the guild not so that I could hire you, but instead so that we could simply speak, and so I could, in whatever way the Gods saw fit, woo you. These being my intentions, the persistent rejections stung, but I refused to give in. Gerik, I do not just admire you, I adore you. I ask that you return to Frelia with me, that we may spend some time in each others’ company once more, away from the battlefield and the rest.”

Innes breathed in. It felt harder than usual, but maybe that was because his pulse was in his ears and he was staring down a man he’d only dreamed of for the past few years—a man he’d feared dead, a man he’d loved and lost.

“Innes,” Gerik said. Innes snapped to attention. “Innes.”

“Yes,” Innes said.

Gerik closed the distance between them. He reached toward Innes, then stopped short. Innes took Gerik’s hand in his own and brought it the rest of the way forward, so that it cupped Innes’ cheek.

“A lover, eh?” Gerik asked. His breath was just as warm as his fingers, and Innes shuddered. He was so _close_. “I could go for one of those, but I didn’t take you for the type.”

Innes fixed Gerik with a glare, and Gerik laughed at him. For the first time, he sounded genuinely happy. His eyes darted back and forth between Innes’ own, and he smiled openly, marveling.

“It doesn’t work so well when you’re smiling like a fool,” Gerik murmured.

Innes shut his eyes. “You’re lucky I like you,” he said.

“More than lucky,” Gerik admitted. “I’m…” He brushed at Innes’ hair. His bangs had grown long; he’d need to cut it, soon, but for now, he reveled in the sensation as Gerik toyed with his hair. “I do believe I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Innes privately ascribed that moniker to himself, but he wasn’t going to say so much. “You’ll come back with me?” Innes asked.

Gerik shook his head, and Innes’ blood went cold.

“Coeus here can’t carry both of us, I don’t think,” Gerik said. “Not as far as Frelia, at any rate.” Catching sight of the panicked look in Innes’ eye, he said, “Innes, I will come to Frelia. But these people need me.”

“These people?” Innes asked, his voice quiet to refrain from breaking.

“Yes,” Gerik said. “I’ll work my way toward Frelia. I’ll write, I’ll… Innes, look at me.” Innes refused. “Look at me.”

“You don’t give me orders.”

“No, I don’t. Lovers have no right to demand anything of each other that is not freely given, but Innes. Please.”

Innes conceded and met Gerik’s eyes once more.

“Innes, I would like nothing more than to return with you at once, but there’s work to be done here.”

“It’ll take years,” Innes said.

“To rebuild everything?” Gerik asked. “Yes. Renais bore much harm during the war. To return it to its former glory will take decades. Thankfully, I’m not the only one hard at work.” Innes swallowed. “I need to do this. And you,” Gerik said, “Frelia needs you.”

“I could—”

“You’re the Crown Prince,” Gerik said. “You can do anything you want, but your country needs you.”

“I need you,” Innes admitted.

“And I need you,” Gerik said. “I’ll write. I’ll come to your side as soon as I am able.”

“You won’t disappear again?” Innes asked.

Gerik shook his head. “I won’t,” he promised. “There’s nothing that could keep me from returning to you now that I know what I do.”

Innes leaned in as Gerik did, their foreheads just barely touching. Innes rested his hands against Gerik’s chest and breathed as Gerik snaked his arms bout Innes’ waist.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Innes said. “I won’t be happy about it, but I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Gerik said. “I promise.”

* * *

Innes returned to Frelia with a tired pegasus and a sore heart to many, many questions.

“Innes?” Father asked, catching sight of him as he retreated to your quarters. “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Are you alone?”

That Father knew of Innes’ inqueries did not surprise him. Innes had never been so unlike his father, though he was said to be harder of temperament.

“For now,” Innes said, heartsick.

“I’ll let Tana know,” Father said. “Get some rest.”

Innes tried, but he could not sleep. Though he hadn’t eaten for hours, his stomach turned at the thought of food. He scoffed at himself; he was behaving like a swooning maiden awaiting a dashing knight in one of those sordid romances that Innes most certainly had _not_ read as a child, both scorning and admiring the heroes for their bravery and kind-heartedness. Innes had bravery to spare, but he’d always been quicker to judgment than to praise. He needed to pull himself together—Gerik would return. He’d promised.

Innes rubbed his face in his hands. He was a fool.

* * *

Five days passed. Innes had taken over one of the practice fields for his own, firing arrow after arrow after arrow. He stopped to eat and sleep, and those only rarely. Tana came to watch, sometimes, as did a few of the knights, but none joined him. Innes supposed all had been warned away, likely by Father, or by the sight of his own face, drawn in a perpetual scowl.

That fifth day, though, someone approached: a servant with a harried expression escorting a dubious-looking courier.

“My lord,” the servant said, scowling at the courier, “this _miscreant_ claims he has a letter for you.”

“I’m not lyin’,” the courier said, accent thick and now recognizable to Innes.

“You’re from Renais,” Innes said.

“Yeah,” the courier said. “Fellow named Gerik sent me. Said it was important. Paid me a pretty penny, but if I’d’ve known I’d be facin’ this much trouble I’d’ve asked for more. Never doing this again, not on your life. I reckon you’re Innes, then?” he asked, handing the letter over.

Innes scanned the envelope. He didn’t have a handwriting sample for comparison, but he didn’t smell anything off about it, and he doubted that anyone would go to such elaborate lengths to kill him. He opened it and scanned the contents while the courier and the servant waited.

Innes caught his own breath: Gerik had told him where he’d be heading next, and when. If he timed it carefully…

“You’ll be amply compensated if you wait here for an hour and then return what I give you to Gerik as soon as you can,” Innes said. Already, his fingers itched at the prospect.

The courier’s eyes narrowed. “How much?” he asked.

* * *

So began the exchange of letters between Innes and Gerik. After a few, the courier bought a horse— “Because you lot don’t give me a moment’s rest,” he told Innes once. It was true, but the courier was making rather a lot of money off of the deal, so Innes felt no remorse.

He got into the habit of starting letters as soon as he sent one off. He wrote only vaguely about happenings in the palace—just in case the courier was ever waylaid, or else decided to earn a little more money by relaying the information to someone else first—but hid little else. He missed Gerik, and he was fast approaching the point where he didn’t care who knew.

Gerik, for his part, wrote long letters. He wrote of repairs that he’d done, people he’d met, places he’d seen. In one, he described a double rainbow he’d witnessed at a village near a great waterfall during a sunshower, and the words were so vivid that Innes could close his eyes and see it as if he were there. Nothing escaped Gerik’s attention, and he saw fit to relay everything and more.

Gradually, the time between letters shortened. “He’s getting closer,” the courier said by way of explanation. He had some sort of ridiculous hat on, and Innes couldn’t help but snort at it. The courier had by and large decided to ignore most of what Innes said during their brief but numerous encounters, and the gesture of derision was no exception. “If he keeps this up, you’ll be within spittin’ distance.”

Much as Innes disliked the expression, he hoped it would be true.

 

Weeks turned into months. Gerik moved from village to village, repairing what he could, rebuilding what he couldn’t. Rather than head directly to Frelia, Gerik swerved back into Renais, heading toward the capital. The times between their letters grew longer, but Innes wasn’t concerned; as a matter of fact, he had a courier—not the courier he shared with Gerik, but a palace courier, one equipped with a pegasus and royal blessing—sent to Ephraim and Eirika, ostensibly just to say hello but mostly to tell them that Gerik appeared to be heading their way.

Their response was immediate: as soon as Gerik arrived, presuming he followed his course, they would have him taken care of as best as they could. Ephraim, for his part, tacked on a hastily penned note that he would do his best to convince Gerik to turn his sights on Frelia. The sight of that postscript, well-intentioned though Innes supposed it had to be, gave him pause. Had he truly been so obvious with his emotions? Gerik hadn’t known, but Ephraim’s insinuation was clear enough.

It was no matter. They would do what they would do; the matter was out of Innes’ hands. He dreamed of Gerik and waited.

* * *

Just shy of the four month mark brought a letter to Innes’ hands, this time just from Ephraim. Gerik was headed for Frelia as he wrote, Ephraim said, riding with haste. He’d taken Ephraim’s own mount, since it was the fastest and best-mannered, and would be arriving soon. Ephraim would follow suit in due time, “to strengthen the bonds between our nations, and, hopefully, to give congratulations.”

Innes might have been furious had not two days later Gerik arrived, windswept and grinning from ear to ear.

(Innes might have dragged him to the nearest dark corner and pressed himself flat against Gerik, beseeching. Gerik might have asked, breathless, “May I?” Receiving enthusiastic consent, he may have kissed Innes until his lips were full and red. Servants may have passed by, determinedly looking away but desperate to find their friends so that they could gossip about what they had witnessed.)

“I’m back,” Gerik said, out in the light of day. “I couldn’t stay any longer from your side.”

“I was ready to ride to Renais myself,” Innes admitted. “Willyou be leaving again?”

Gerik pressed himself tight against Innes’ side as they walked through the gardens. “Not likely,” he said, “unless you’re planning on disappearing some time soon.”

“I would never,” Innes said. “Frelia needs me.”

“That’s the Innes I know and love.”

 _Love_. Innes’ pulse jumped as his heart thumped rapidly in his chest. They’d spoken of _lovers_ , but _love_ —

“Stunned into silence, I see?” Gerik asked. He sounded as if he were joking.

“Hardly,” Innes protested. “You know how I am.”

“I do,” Gerik said, rounding on him, “and if what I said crossed a line, tell me now.”

“What?”

“I love you,” Gerik said. Innes froze. “Is it too much?” Gerik asked. “If it is, that’s fine, just tell me.”

“Gods,” Innes muttered. “I love you, too, and if you stop saying it I think I’ll go mad.”

“I won’t, then,” Gerik promised, crowding him again. “I love you, Innes.”

“I love you, too, you know,” Innes said, “but we can’t do this here.”

“Eh?”

“Tana’s coming,” Innes said.

Gerik looked over his shoulder. “I don’t see her.”

“I’ve lived with her for as long as I can remember,” Innes said. “I always know.”

Sure enough, she came into sight shortly, running as fast as she could in her long skirts, waving broadly.

“I’ll be damned,” Gerik said.

Innes shrugged. “Looks like Tana will be the first to know.”

“About us?”

“Yes, if you’re willing.”

“I’ve nothing to hide if you don’t,” Gerik said.

Tana was fast approaching. “Good,” Innes said, “because if Tana knows, the entire country probably will.” Gerik snorted. “It’s true.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Gerik said, just as Tana came to a halt before them.

“Brother!” Tana called. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I saw Ephraim’s horse in the stables, but he’s not here?”

“No,” Innes said. “He’s not. Gerik is, though.”

“Hello, Princess,” Gerik greeted.

“Hi there, Gerik,” Tana said. She looked to Innes, eyes mischievous. Innes knew she’d already put two and two together without any further prompting, and he arched an eyebrow at her. “Is this…?”

“Yes,” Innes said. “Off with you. He only just arrived.”

Tana grinned and ignored Innes entirely. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” she said, taking one of Gerik’s hands. “Brother was a menace for a while there. I didn’t think he’d ever come out of his room, but you should have seen him when that courier of yours arrived. I don’t think I’ve ever seen another run faster, or write so quickly.”

“Sister!” Innes protested.

“It’s true,” Tana said, pouting. “I never thought I’d see my brother so lovesick, but stranger things, right? Father and I have talked so much about you—it’s so exciting to see you again! Father’ll be so pleased to finally meet you.”

“And I him,” Gerik said. He squeezed Innes’ hand, and Innes squeezed back. Never mind the circumstances, Innes could see how meeting a King could be nerve-wracking to one unaccustomed to such things.

“But oh, you’ll need to rest first,” Tana said, winking audaciously at Innes, who flushed brilliant red. Gerik laughed a little, and Innes went redder. “Innes will show you to a room, won’t he?”

“Sister, if you’re not gone by the time I look up, you’ll be my next target during practice,” Innes said.

Tana scampered away, giggling.

“I like her,” Gerik said.

“That figures,” Innes muttered. He pulled himself together as best as he could, but judging by the look in Gerik’s face, he failed spectacularly.

“I think,” Gerik said, looking him over, “I’ll be needing a room.”

“I’ve one in mind,” Innes said, already moving.

* * *

They didn’t leave Innes’ suite for quite some time. Dinner was a rather awkward affair as a result, as Innes couldn’t entirely hide the growing mark on the side of his neck, and Gerik made no pretense of hiding any of his own. Gerik followed Innes’ cues regarding table manners, and his own plethora of worldly experience carried the conversation with ease.

The word was around the palace within the hour, and the talk of every major city and port before the end of the next day. Innes didn’t care, though Gerik had never been the subject of quite so much attention. They endured the scrutiny together. When it came time for Innes’ coronation, Gerik became the first Prince Consort to a King in Frelia’s long history, and the nation rejoiced.


End file.
